Why 'Head of State' Should Win the POTUS Horse Race
Whom should Americans elect as president in 2024? Here’s an answer that flips the standard viewpoint: Choose a worthy “head of state.”
This non-partisan suggestion focuses on aspects of leadership which could enlighten those handicapping the White House horse race—and reduce society’s political handicaps.
We know that, as a democratic, constitutional republic, our president wears two hats: “head of government” and “head of state.” Many other countries have two persons occupying the separate positions. Yes, it makes a difference who is honored at “state dinners” in DC.
Voters tend to be dismissive, even unconscious, of the double roles, which are distinctive and complementary. Our elections are framed mostly in terms of strategic contests. The news media emphasize the administrative power we grant to a head of government.
Of course, presidential candidates do face scrutiny about some qualities connected to a head of state, such as international experience and the “impression” an individual makes to today’s worldwide audiences.
But pundits obsess about who is topping the polls, whose domestic policies serve which interests, and how the federal machine may face rejiggering.
We need a detailed scorecard suited to the Oval Office’s complex demands.
The Encyclopedia Brittanica defines “head of state” as “the highest representative of a sovereign state … serving to symbolize the unity and integrity of the state at home and abroad.”
This online description includes a link which proceeds to define “integrity” three ways: “a firm adherence to a code of especially moral or artistic values (incorruptibility)”; “an unimpaired condition (soundness)”; and the quality of being undivided (“completeness”).
In other words, we hope to have a “head of state” who represents America at its best. It could follow that the president symbolizes “a great nation” and guides us as “the leader of the free world.”
Sadly, these thoughts, which came naturally not so long ago, might now trigger blowback.
Some voters prefer a more global point of view that minimizes countries, including their borders. Others downgrade presidents as avatars of political parties, destined to be embattled and undermined. Still others think America “was never that great,” as a former governor said in a 2018 speech.
All of these views can be understood and tallied. But there’s a problem. If we do not believe the country we’re personifying has outstanding qualities, and has a healthy identity, what kind of representative will we elect?
This is crucial because the president reflects us not only to the world, but to ourselves. Just as presidents have a “bully pulpit” affecting policy, they can nudge the country toward high aspirations or disenchantment, moral goodness or meanness, wisdom or chaos.
Heads of state affect states of mind.
We saw an example early this year in the coronation of King Charles III. The United Kingdom continued to choose a hierarchy of governance pointing toward some level of godliness, however symbolic. A monarch professed values and virtues which transcend the mundane, and the promise of continuity brought celebration.
A “state funeral” in 2022 reminded us that Queen Elizabeth II elevated British hearts and minds as a beloved icon of noble behavior, accompanying her commonwealth through tumultuous decades.
Now, a majority of Americans say in opinion polls they want our society to arise from its own tumult and take a different track. Countless critiques and statistics have signaled a crisis of confidence related to cultural divisions, economic woes, mental wellness, and dystopian anticipation.
The cures demand a smart head of government, but also a wise head of state. We hunger for a servant-leader who practices phronesis, which Aristotle described as the virtue of practical wisdom, seeking the common good.
History has provided numerous exemplars. Even our popular culture easily generates heroic presidential images. Think of Morgan Freeman in Deep Impact, Téa Leoni in Madam President (née Madam Secretary), Martin Sheen in The West Wing, and Kiefer Sutherland in Designated Survivor. Kindly disregard Kevin Spacey in House of Cards.
It's not enough for Hollywood to create impressive heads of state. Parents, teachers, religions, and communities must discover and develop such people.
The list of qualities to be cultivated is long.
Some key phrases might be: broad knowledge, critical thinking, sound judgment, grass-roots empathy, respect for human dignity, peacemaker, nuanced opinions, support for individualism and enterprise, healthy ego tempered with realistic humility, problem-solver, connection-maker, good listener, proactive planner, champion for the poor and marginalized, and esteem for those doing sacrificial service to communities and countries.
Here are some more descriptors: compelling communicator, emotional intelligence and restraint, self-discipline, readiness to sacrifice, avoidance of divisiveness, strong principles but openness to compromise, religious faith, sound reasoning, accountability, builder of esprit de corps, openness to all people’s stories and concerns, willingness to admit and correct errors, justice and mercy, law and order, good vs. evil, love of country, love of family, love of people, and care for the earth and all of creation.
That’s not asking too much, is it? We should at least hope that the lives we lead and the institutions we steward, especially our famillies, will yield role models bearing some of these priorities.
We can inform our judgments on such criteria only if we sift through campaign talking points and psychological gamesmanship with a mental checklist. Fair-minded journalists will help if they objectively curate aspirants’ words and deeds, from past and present.
At some point in the presidential race, sharp reporters should ask the candidates point-blank: How do they feel about becoming the nation’s head of state?
Does the idea resonate with them? Would they describe their accomplishments as “statesmanlike”?
Or do they pooh-pooh such “elitist” concepts in the name of utopian ideals or dumbed-down populism? If so, how would these contrarians represent the American people?
Ask candidates to discuss their formation in community and, yes, “state” government. Did they take local places, people, and civic affairs seriously, embracing the notion of “home” and the need for “belonging”?
(By the way, do they respect federalism for its distributed problem-solving and its diverse “laboratories of democracy”? How do they feel about the Electoral College? And the Constitution?)
All are free to decide the kinds of answers they want to hear.
Indeed, this whole line of questioning becomes more a personal “examination of conscience” than a quiz for campaigners. But it’s meaningful for politicians to have these aspirations on their minds from the start. In a democratic republic, we are all called to “represent.”
Whether voting for president or Rotary Club chair, let’s endorse the principle of putting forth the best of us to lift up all of us. We can stand up for incorruptibility, soundness, and completeness.
Combining the use of power and “the content of our character” in a single leadership position, and in every person’s consciousness, gives Americans citizenship insurance. If we select excellent heads of state, they are unlikely to be terrible heads of government.
Image from ClipSafari.com, a collection of Creative Commons designs.
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Phronesis Plus
In this edition, a bonus article—on public affairs through a Christmas lens.
A Worldly-Wise Christmas Carol That Makes Us Wonder
By Bill Schmitt
The gently pensive Christmas carol, “I Wonder as I Wander,” offers a few “epiphanies,” so to speak, about our secular politics and culture.
American folklorist John Jacob Niles wrote the song in 1933, drawing upon a tune sung at a gathering of evangelical Christians he attended in Murphy, N.C. He explained later that local police had ordered the group to get out of town.
A young girl performed fragments of old Appalachian lyrics. These gave Niles what he called “a magnificent idea,” according to Wikipedia.
The song that resulted was a wistful reflection on the paradox of the Christmas story—how God was born in “a cow’s stall,” how “Jesus the Savior did come for to die / for poor ordinary people like you and like I.”
The singer spoke volumes when she started, “I wonder.”
In today’s arena of torrential factoids, strategic gameplans and media pundits sparking emotions with pre-digested solutions, it takes a lot to quiet us down enough to do any serious pondering.
Those in the 1933 meeting had the time and inclination for wonder, defined as the curiosity to know something cloaked in mystery.
The invitation to such wide-ranging, open-ended musing is rare in the public square nowadays. As 20th century sage G.K. Chesterton wrote, “The world will never starve for want of wonders, but only for want of wonder.”
Universities typically have instilled the thrill of deeper discoveries. They’re intended to cultivate informed, integrative and imaginative perspectives which generate fresh, constructive insights.
While students can tickle the imagination and simulate wonder through popular entertainment, learning on a clearheaded campus should sharpen their sensibilities—and boost their appreciation of what they haven’t figured out yet. This does not always work.
In light of the October 7 terror assault in Israel or the housing-bubble collapse which triggered the Great Recession in 2008, we should still be haunted by the “general finding” of the National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States that assessed causes of the 9/11 horrors in 2001.
“The most important failure was one of imagination,” the commission concluded. “We do not believe leaders understood the gravity of the threat.”
A second potent lyric in our Christmas song is the idea of wandering. Americans excel at this trait, defined as moving without a fixed course or aim.
Without a sense of purpose, accomplishment or accountability, our civic life suffers from disenchantment—observed as “quiet quitting.” Minds wander. Our news is full of sound and fury, signifying numbing.
No wonder many voters crave a more powerful, activist government. Some try to “do something” personally to solve obvious problems but swerve toward resentment or violence. Where shall we set limitations?
That leads to a third highlight in the lyrics. The song’s references to wondering and wandering imply reaching wise conclusions, in our minds as well as in our actions. One supposes those hill-folk in Murphy wanted to wander toward a new home, so they craved understanding despite uncertainty, empowerment amid vulnerability.
Their words prompted Niles to write a “carol,” a tune that shares a joyful message with others. The message is, in secular terms, the power of paradox.
For Christians, the happiest puzzle is Jesus, born in a manger, growing up to save humanity. For all of us, other good paradoxes include hoping against hope; sacrificing for a greater goal; respecting inherent dignity even in our opponents, and simply taking one step at a time to make a journey.
Again quoting Chesterton, paradox means “truth standing on her head to get attention.”
Our modern insistence that everything must immediately make sense and be perfected runs alongside our post-modern credo that “nothing really matters” and repair requires deconstruction. We reject the power of paradox to focus us while patiently opening up space for a bigger picture.
The tempo and tenor of our times short-circuit purposeful wondering and encourage meaningless wandering.
We resort instead to what has been called a “cult of cognition,” with “experts” prescribing all-encompassing but abstract theories and specifically assigned steps, often for fame or profit. Advocates of causes insist that doubters be re-educated. Out-of-favor ideas must be canceled.
That small cadre in Murphy might have figured a power game was afoot. It was natural, even liberating, for them to embrace a higher power, one which allowed them to wonder and wander with hope.
Our politics and culture need fewer dour orchestrators and more joyous carolers. Isolated spectators and combative tribes must give way to bold visionaries and collaborative communities who gradually emerge with surprising wisdom.
As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote in a 2021 book, “The choice with which humankind is faced is between the idea of power and the power of ideas.”
We can gain bold confidence in our aspirations from a humble little Christmas tune. Hey, we just wandered into another happy paradox!
Image from ClipSafari.com, a collection of Creative Commons designs.
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